It's Alright I'll Teach You
by MustLoveMustyPages
Summary: Natasha visits Bucky in Wakanda. (Things go both better and worse than you'd expect.)


**Author's Note:**

**For Impala_Chick for BuckyNat Secret Santa 2018.**

**Exactly what it says on the tin. Post-Black Panther but not canon compliant with Infinity Wars since it doesn't seem likely that Nat and Bucky would have seen each other since the events of Civil War. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Sergeant Barnes, you have a visitor."

Said former sergeant pauses but doesn't raise his head, remaining hunched over a half-finished basket. "Shuri, I've told you to call me Bucky." He goes back to what he'd been doing before. His unmarred hand holds the base of the basket while his bionic one weaves the dried sisal plant strands to form the next row.

Shuri rolls her eyes and leans over to examine his progress. "You picked that up rather quickly." The spacing isn't entirely even, but it looks like the work of someone who has been practicing the art for much longer than Bucky's mere two weeks.

"I had good teachers." He glances up to look at the elderly women sitting on the ground in the circle around him.

"He has delicate fingers. Good for weaving," Makena comments, eyeing Bucky's technique critically as she continues her own weaving. Years of practice and she can walk and talk as she works, rarely needing to look down to produce perfect, round baskets.

Bucky has to bite down a laugh. Only Makena would call his Hydra-made arm "delicate." A snort escapes despite his best efforts and he receives a light swat from the woman. "No distractions. _Focus_. You do not want to redo that row for a third time."

Expression growing serious at the thought of having to undo all that weaving again, Bucky hunches even further over the basket. "Yes, ma'am."

On any other day Shuri would be content to just sit and watch them weave for hours, their movements almost hypnotic and soothing. But time is of the essence today. "_Bucky_," she emphasizes, "There is someone here to see you."

Once again, the man doesn't look up. "Steve knows where to find me."

"While that may be true, your visitor isn't Steve."

Now she has his full attention. Bucky tilts his head towards her, the confusion plain on his face. "Sam?"

It's a good guess, but Shuri shakes her head and gestures for him to get up, the small amount of patience she'd had evaporating into the hot, Wakandan air. "No, your visitor is a _woman_."

Now Bucky is even more confused, but he rises from the ground and makes his apologies, promising the others that he will return as soon as he can to finish his basket.

Makena waves him off, though. "A girl comes to visit, you give her all your attention and don't rush." She takes Bucky's unfinished basket and sets it off to the side. "This will be here when you're done."

* * *

Despite Bucky's insistent questions as they walk to their destination, another village less than a mile away, Shuri remains tight-lipped about his mysterious visitor. He has his guesses, of course, but also dozens of reasons why each one is probably wrong.

So when they make it over the crest of a grassy hill and the small village finally comes into view, his stomach tightens into a bundle of anxious nerves. The one thing Shuri will confirm is that this woman, whoever she is, isn't a threat. And seeing as how it was Shuri who had helped him heal both physically and mentally, he knows he can trust her.

When they reach the village, they pass two huts before stopping. Shuri doesn't make a move to go inside, but stands at the arched entrance and tells him, "Go on. I will be visiting with the elders if you need me."

With no small amount of apprehension, Bucky takes a deep breath and walks through the opening, trying to prepare himself for whoever is waiting.

Inside it's significantly darker, and it takes Bucky's eyes a moment to adjust. When they do, he blinks around, taking in the surprisingly vast size of the interior. There are several seats along the right wall, along with two cots and a long table set up at the far end.

At the table stands the woman. Hearing him enter, she turns, not bothering with smiles and pleasantries, just looking him up and down, taking stock. "James," she says, and her raspy voice has his mind spinning with memories of the Red Room and missions that he's only just recently begun to remember.

"Natasha." He looks her over as well, albeit more discreetly. Although it's been some time since their last encounter, his eyes linger on the bare skin of her neck as if any strangulation marks will still be there. After a moment too long he averts his eyes, instead landing on her hair, its color surprising him almost more than her actual being here. "You're blonde."

That earns him a smirk. "Very observant of you." She doesn't move towards him and instead turns back to the table where she had been sifting through stacks of books and papers.

"Does Steve know you're here?"

"Who do you think told me where you were?"

Bucky isn't sure whether or not to believe Natasha since he vividly remembers her being on Stark's side with the Accords. "And why would he do that?"

"Because he trusts me," she replies as she picks up a book, flips through some pages, and sets it back down again. Her tone dares him to say otherwise. "Plus, Steve thought you could use a visitor."

Bucky reasons that since she _did_ let them escape, maybe she was on their side in the end. Or, he muses to himself as he walks over to the table, maybe Black Widow is never really on anyone's side.

He doesn't know what he expected to find when walking over, but what he sees there causes his whole body to freeze. It's purely the knowledge of what Natasha could do to him that makes Bucky tamp down on his urge to push her away from it all. Still, he can feel his left hand clenching involuntarily and it's with gritted teeth that he makes it relax again.

"Why are you _really_ here?" he asks, voice carefully controlled. There's no way she came all this way just because Steve thought Bucky was lonely.

Instead of answering his question, Natasha responds with one of her own. "Did you really not recognize me?"

"You mean in Berlin?" Bucky asks although she can't be referring to anything else. His gaze flickers to her neck again and when he forces himself to look elsewhere he sees that she's now looking at him intently, searching for something that he doesn't know if he can give her. Bucky breaks eye contact, deciding the least he can do is be honest. _"I think so."_

Natasha takes that in with a stiff nod, then turns from the table and walks over to one of the chairs situated on the far right. She falls into it without her usual grace and although Bucky's eyesight isn't bionic like his arm, he thinks he can see a slight tremor in her hands.

With a hard swallow, he runs his fingers over the books on the table, wondering what exactly Shuri and Steve are trying to do here. He recognizes the books, of course.

After all, they're _his_.

Grabbing one at random, Bucky follows Natasha to the chairs, sitting down across from her. He's thrown to see her so shaken, hands in tight fists at her sides. She's usually the picture of control.

"You know," he says, gesturing at the book in his lap, the cover black and yellow. "I don't exactly appreciate something calling its readers names, but I have to admit the author of _Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder for Dummies_ knows his stuff."

Natasha keeps her gaze trained on the book as if she can't quite look at him. "There's a whole series. They're very successful."

"Really." Bucky hums thoughtfully, flipping the book over and scanning the back cover. "I wonder if they have any that could help Steve and his pop culture problem. Do you think he'd take offense to being called a dummy?"

There's a quiet snort at that, and although it's not a laugh or a smile, he'll take what he can get. Plus, at least she's looking at him again. "So, did the books help?"

"You know," Bucky says, "in World War II there wasn't an official diagnosis for it. I think the majority called it 'battle fatigue' but it wasn't really taken seriously. Most were put back on the front lines the next day."

Instead of calling him out on the non-answer, Natasha goes along with it. "They have programs now, for soldiers who come back and need to reintegrate into society." She doesn't seem as tense as before, her hands laying awkwardly, but loose at her sides.

Bucky nods, pleased to hear it. The idea that there is an actual diagnosis for some of his symptoms makes Bucky feel like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He can only imagine how comforting it is for those soldiers much more innocent than him to have a name to put to their guilt, a way to conquer it.

"Not all of the books over there were about PTSD, though," Natasha comments, and it's such a loaded statement that Bucky doesn't know how to respond at first.

After being unfrozen, Shuri hadn't lost any time on getting to work on him, using a mixture of her technological prowess and traditional Wakandan tinctures. It had only taken weeks for her to help Bucky do what he'd been trying to accomplish for years - separate his identity from the Winter Soldier's. To finally be able to control his own thoughts and just be Bucky Barnes.

It didn't erase his memories of what he'd done as the Winter Soldier, though. Those would haunt him forever.

Hence the books. Shuri'd shown up at his hut one day with a stack of them, dropping the pile into his arms. "They're self-help books," she'd explained. "You know what thoughts and actions weren't your own. Now you need to learn how to deal with what Hydra did to you and what they made you do."

Along with the PTSD books, Shuri'd also given him several on meditation that had helped, but he knows that's not what Natasha is getting at now. There are also ones on recovering memories.

At this point, he figures he has two options. One is to end this conversation right now and Natasha will walk away with nothing much changed. The second option won't be easy or comfortable for either of them, but Bucky doesn't want to regret could-have-beens or I'll-never-knows. And Natasha being here at all means she's willing to try. He remembers enough about her to know that he owes her to try, too.

"When everything happened with Fury, that wasn't the first time we'd met," he starts off. The fact that it's a statement of fact rather than a question isn't missed by Natasha, who goes completely still. "I didn't recognize you then, but you recognized me, didn't you?" She gives him a small nod of acknowledgment. "So HYDRA, they didn't...?" He trails off.

"Wipe me? No." Her answer sounds almost bitter coming from her lips, like part of her would have preferred the wiping. Not everyone would understand that, but Bucky does. It's better to know everything he's done; however there are times when he wishes he could forget again. To not remember how many times over his hands have taken lives.

How many times he was _close_ to taking a life. He can feel the skin of her neck under his fingertips now as if they were back in that airport. So delicate, unprotected...

Bucky's vision starts to go fuzzy so he quickly rises from his chair and backs away. This was so much harder than he'd thought it would be. "I'm sorry," he manages to get out, before turning and walking quickly outside.

* * *

He doesn't stop walking until he hits that crest of the hill and the village is far behind him, nothing but trees and a faraway sunset in sight. Taking in several deep breaths, he inhales the scent of the warm air, heavy with moisture, and tries to ground himself in this moment. He's in Wakanda. Everything is fine. No one is hurt.

A minute later and his breathing is back to normal, no longer feeling as though he's in a different time and place.

Bucky senses Natasha's presence before he sees her. She stays several paces behind him, waiting, then approaches, footsteps unnecessarily loud as she comes to stand beside him.

She doesn't ask if he's okay and he doesn't apologize again.

"So where are you heading next?" he asks, because that seems like the safest topic at this point.

Natasha crosses her arms across her chest and shrugs. "I'm not sure. For the first time in years I don't have a mission, nowhere I need to be. I could just disappear."

That last part is said so quietly Bucky wonders if she intended to say it out loud. "Is that why you dyed your hair? To disappear?"

Natasha starts walking slowly down the rough path of the hill and Bucky follows. "Not disappear. Just stay off the radar. I've not exactly made a lot of friends in my line of work. And now with the Accords, they know my name."

"No one knows who I am in Wakanda, at least not in the villages. It feels nice to wake up and not have to worry about someone trying to kill me every day."

Natasha laughs. "I can't relate." Then her voice grows thoughtful as she glances at their surroundings. "That sounds... peaceful."

There's a not unpleasant silence that settles between them after that, both with their minds in a utopian dream world where enemies don't exist and there's not a threat waiting for them beyond the borders. An idea begins to form in Bucky's mind as they continue to walk, but it takes him a few minutes to actually get the words out. "I'm learning to make baskets. You should come with me tomorrow and I'll introduce you to Makena."

"Makena?" Natasha fails miserably at making her question sound nonchalant.

"Makena's an elder in one of the nearby villages," he explains, trying to not let his amusement show at Natasha's relieved reaction. "She's been the one teaching me to weave."

"I'm not sure staying any longer would be a good idea. This was just supposed to be for a day."

Bucky honestly doesn't think T'Challa would mind one extra person hiding out in his country, especially not Natasha who is ten times as useful as Bucky could ever be. "You should stay if you want to."

"We weren't trained to follow what we want. We do what we need to do."

If the Red Room wasn't already destroyed, Bucky would go back and do it himself. At least he'd had a childhood, but Natasha? She was raised in that place and it's clear that she's still stuck in their ingrained mentality. He can see the struggle on her face, a frown forming a crinkle between her brows.

For a moment Bucky is thrown into a memory with that same frown, a flash of red hair while training, and the briefest feeling of... happiness.

It's gone all too quickly and he wants to chase that feeling, would do anything to feel that way again. As he looks at the blonde beside him though, he realizes that maybe he can. "I don't know. I've been learning lately that sometimes wants and needs can be the same thing."

"Oh, yeah?" She turns her head to look at him, smirking. "Did you get that in one of your books?"

"Nope, it's a James Buchanan Barnes original."

Natasha stares at him long and hard, no doubt going over every possible outcome as if this were one of her missions. When she looks forward again, his heart sinks in disappointment thinking that she's turning him down.

But then she's uncrossing her arms and Bucky notices a slight bounce in her step that wasn't there before. "Okay, I'll stay." She already appears lighter somehow, as if just making the decision lifted away some invisible weight. "Although I never learned to do arts and crafts."

A wide smile breaks across Bucky's face. "That's alright. I'll teach you."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**This was inspired in part by Letitia Wright's interview where she talks about how Shuri would have fixed Bucky. Give the article a read on the Digital Spy website if you haven't already.**

**Due to some unexpected issues taking me out of town this week, I unfortunately wasn't able to get this beta'd. All mistakes are completely my own and feel free to point them out if you're so inclined.**

**Otherwise, let me know what you think!**


End file.
